Getting Away With It
by Wicked Thespian
Summary: JaSam. WIP. The sequel to Like A Criminal. Yeah. Chapter 7 is up! Features Sonny, Jason, Ric and Alexis. Read and review!
1. Chapter 1

**(Well, here's the first chapter of the sequel to Like A Criminal! Yeah, yeah. Took long enough. Enjoy, anywho! Let me know what you think. I'm really not very interested in continuing, considering how terrible the current storyline is.) **

**Chapter 1:**

Perfect was a distant memory.

Sighing and feeling very much like the world around her had come to a complete standstill, Samantha McCall rinsed the remaining dishes listlessly, watching idly as the water ran down the smooth surface, taking the remains of a hearty meal with it. A vague thought concerning what the original order had looked like entered her mind, but, as bored as she was, she did not give it any time of day. It fluttered around uselessly for a moment, then vanished, essentially committing consciousness suicide.

Sam missed the pent house. She missed the way life had been. She missed the danger, and the fun; the terrible ordeals and the blissful moments. She missed Jason. It wasn't that she was broken without him. Life moved on, and she was forced to soldier along with it. She could manage, living here, working here. Doing what she needed to survive. But she was lonely and miserable, unable to stomach any company. She just missed him.

Kelly's was the home for any wayward traveler bereft of better accommodations. It was home to vagabond and miscreant alike, indiscriminate when it came to past or future. At one time it even housed one of the most terrible murderers Port Charles had ever seen. And that was saying quite a lot, considering the city was home to some of the largest mob circles in the state.

There were only a handful of rooms above the restaurant, but somehow Mike Corbin always managed to have one open when it was needed. So when he had come out from the kitchen to see Sam sitting at his counter, soaking wet from the rain with a middle-sized trunk on the stool beside her he had instantly known what he had to do. He gave her a room and a job, no questions asked, no money required. That was three weeks ago, and he still didn't know the story.

Sam found serving customers tedious and obnoxious, and was effectively fired from that position after waiting on two tables. He moved her to the back, giving her simple kitchen jobs to waste her time on as she mused and pouted over the miserable turn her life had taken. Mike was sensitive to her predicament, giving her not only the space, but the quiet she needed to mull things over. She really did appreciate his generosity, guilt finding a more comfortable home in her consciousness the longer she took to thank him.

Washing dishes wasn't exactly her ideal job, but it covered the rent and kept her hands from being idle. It was a shame that same sense of occupation didn't stretch to her thoughts. She found herself washing the same plate for ten minutes or more, her eyes staring without sight as she let the faucet wash the soap away. Her mind took her to times and places she loved, making her long for some way of getting back there. These memories were inexplicably linked to her devious side, and as they rolled across her inner vision she silently fashioned plans to make them a reality once more.

One thing she knew to be true, even as everything else crumbled around her, was that Jason was an honest man. If ever she actually tried to ensnare him in a lie, to force them back together through an elaborate plot, he would never forgive her. It wouldn't work. And besides, that was much more a Carly thing. Sam knew there was another answer.

If she could just find it, everything would stop hurting.

Three weeks. The longest month she had ever lived, and the end was still a long way off. She didn't sleep very well at nights, when the loneliness was at its worst. It crept into her mind through the corners of her eyes, no matter how tightly she shut her eyes. It trickled through her veins like liquid, snaking through the most private zones of her body, leaving her feeling violated and helpless. Actually falling to sleep was no better, giving in to nightmares and, sometimes even worse, sensual remembrances.

Working in the diner, while somehow distracting, was almost a waking nightmare in itself. When she was working in the back she felt reasonably okay, easing into a pattern of work and thought. But there was someone, everyday, asking about her at the front desk.

It was usually Alexis, checking in every day to see if her daughter was okay, if she wanted to come back home, if she would at least come out and talk to her mother. All Mike could tell her was 'no', and she would leave only to return again whenever her busy schedule would allow. Mike was a father, and understood Alexis's pain. He came back to check with Sam each time, despite knowing the answer he would get.

He didn't realize that both women were deeply grateful for this one simple action.

Sometimes it was others, friends or just busybodies. Sam gave none of them heed. The one man she ever wanted to talk to never showed up, never came to see her personally. She knew some of the inconspicuous men, the ones that brought up the subject of the 'quiet girl doing dishes in the back' casually, were just gathering information for Jason. They left with nothing more than when they came in. She would continue to shut them out until Jason came down personally.

She heard Mike talking to someone at the counter, two male voices drifting back to her. She shut off the faucet and proceeded to dry the last of the dishes slowly, her ears perked, her attention forward while her back greeted anyone trying to look through the kitchen. Without the running water the conversation was clearer, but not perfect. She picked up the key words, the man speaking with Mike doing so in a low, mumbled tone. Missed words or not, Sam couldn't help but note the surprise in Mike's voice.

"Okay, I'll go back and see if she wants to talk today…" Mike said warily. She heard his footsteps drawing near and turned to face him, letting the dish crash gracelessly back into the water, the towel with it. She tilted her head at him expectantly, her hands on her hips. He smiled warmly, nodding his head back towards the counter, "Feel like having a conversation with my son?"

Sam arched an eyebrow. Now she understood why Mike had sounded so taken back. What could he possibly want? Next to Jason, Sam considered Sonny the least likely of people to come and talk to her. Intrigued, she smiled wanly and nodded. Mike beamed for a moment, then, stone faced, led her back to the counter as if he couldn't trust her to find it without getting lost in the maze of ovens and storage shelves.

Sonny Corinthos sat at the bar, a plate with a half eaten slice of apple pie sitting before him. He was dressed in a dark navy button up shirt and a suave blazer, complimented by black trousers, dark tie and slicked back hair. Sam nodded at him, admitting privately that it was the best she had seen him look in a long time. But appearances were deceiving, and Sonny epitomized that adage. Mike left them under the guise of waiting on a table.

Separated by the counter, Sam and Sonny made eye contact and searched the others eyes carefully. It was the mobster that broke the silence that was quickly passing beyond the realm of simple awkwardness. He cleared his throat and offered her a smile, and she returned the favor with only a slight hesitation.

"How are you doing?" He asked, playing with the fork on his plate. A thousand rehearsed sarcastic remarks circled through her mind, but she somehow ignored them all.

"I'm okay. Tired. Bitter. Lonely. But I'm okay."

"Yeah, that sounds great." He chuckled with an ease that belonged only to Sonny, his dimpled cheeks betraying a sweet side he often tried to hide. She smiled at the man she once almost had a child with, feeling a bond of friendship she had long since forgotten about. It pulled at her heart and made her sigh. Still grinning, he continued, "I'm sorry. I want you to be okay. I have to ask you for a favor, and I want you to agree because you want to, not because…"

Smiles faded, laughter died away. Sam's eyes were keen, her mind sharp. She didn't miss the wince as Sonny tried to stop his words before they came out. The slight stutter, the moment that went on a bit too long. She shook her head and leaned forward on the counter, getting as close to him as she could without threatening him.

"Because… it has something to do with Jason?" She asked with pointed emphasis on the name of her former lover. Her interest was more than piqued, "Do you want me to help you get your business back from him? Because I won't, Sonny. I'm mad at him, but I could never… I can't betray him. You know that. I'm sorry, I really am, but I can't."

Sonny nodded, "You're right. I shouldn't even ask you. Don't apologize. In fact, I'm sorry." He stood and reached across the counter. She thought for a moment that he wanted to shake her hand, and she began to proffer it. He caught her off guard, his strong arm around her shoulder before she could realize it. The counter between them made the hug awkward, but Sonny kept his hold firm for a long time. Almost too long a time. Sam began to feel comfortable rather than the opposite, and closed her eyes. Sonny let her go and looked straight into her face, looking her over once more before turning and leaving the diner.

Mike sauntered over, seemingly by accident, and feigned a surprised look, "Did Michael leave?"

"Yeah…" Sam said, slightly uncomfortable, "Talk about weird. I… I'm just going to get back to work…" She waved and lied in three syllables, escaping from the kitchen entirely and retreating to her room. Mike didn't stop her.

There was no getting her mind around what that conversation could have possibly been about. There was simply no understanding Sonny at all these days. The last thing she wanted to do was get involved in _that. _He had so many issues to work through: throwing herself and all of her own problems into that bag would not end happily for either of them. Still, she had to wonder: why would he take the time to visit her when she had already told him, weeks earlier, that she would not betray Jason to him? He could have forgotten, but that didn't seem the case. The way he smiled, the words he used, the look in his eyes all seemed to add to some answer she couldn't see.

He seemed so normal, and at the same time, completely unhinged.

Shuddering against an imaginary cold, she moved to her bed and flopped down, kicking off her shoes. She buried her face in her pillows, hoping that pressure on her forehead would some how stop the thoughts that were bleeding through her skull. It failed miserably, a pillow flying across the room in result. Sitting up on the bed now, she looked around for something to do. Her phone was sitting on the table next to the bed, the screen lit up.

Grabbing it and flipping it open she saw she had eight missed calls. Forget your phone for one afternoon and everyone wants to talk to you. Sighing, she called her voice mail and reclined, the unfriendly robotic voice feeding her information she already knew before getting to the actual messages.

A familiar voice came to her ears. A familiar tingle crawled through her stomach. She listened intently, everything else that was familiar melting away. The message went on, and she listened without breath. She didn't want to miss a word.

There was no going back to Perfect.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

Mildew infected wood creaked woefully as packages, crates and barrels were unloaded from the vessel in port. The boatmen moved swiftly with the docking crew, each load disappearing into one of a line of warehouses almost as soon as they were carried off the deck by a crude, yet effective, crane. Inside the building, impeccably maintained to look naturally run down, each unit was marked and checked, logged and sorted. Armed men with angry faces and thick muscles stood sentinel at each entrance, murderously trained eyes sweeping routinely over the worker: a silent threat. Stay in order or get some personal time with three or four bullets.

Standing on the dock in the shadows of the warehouse was the man orchestrating the night's covert activities. He stood rigidly, handgun gripped between by gloved fingers. His sharp business suit rustled listlessly in the coastal breeze, blue silk button up catching glints of moonlight from beneath his tailored blazer. Muscular, tall and handsome, he was an imposing figure under almost any circumstance. Tonight, with tension so thick it almost choked the loading crew, it was like working under the devil's gaze.

If the devil had eyes as clear as the sky and the color of ice, that is.

Jason Morgan filed his lungs with the cool, heavily fogged night air. It was nearing three in the morning and they were well ahead of schedule. They would finish before his impromptu business partner arrived and, after a short meeting, they would all be returning to their families, their jobs fictionalized, the missing hours of the night obscured by lies or omission. Jason was not one of them.

Three weeks prior he had broken things off with his fiancé. He lied to her face, told her he didn't love her anymore. She saw through him. He tried to be diplomatic, said things had become too complicated and she would be happier this way. She proved him wrong. She fought for him tooth and nail and all he could do was keep her oblivious to how effective her arguments really were, to how much sense she made, how wrong he was and, above all, how much he loved her.

He missed her. There were times, mostly at night, when his body screamed for her with such poignant pangs that the physical pain of it kept him awake. He would sometimes fine himself standing with the phone in his hand her number subconsciously dialed, her voice, irritated by yet another crank call, ringing melodiously in his ears. He always hung up without a sound, not because he had nothing to say to her, but that there weren't words enough in his vocabulary to express how sorry he was.

He couldn't ask her to return to his life now. When it had been dangerous before to be the girlfriend of a mob enforcer now, to be the fiancé of a mob boss, was suicidal. She was used to being a target, always on a list, but there days it would be like standing in the center of a red and white target twenty-four seven.

When Sonny Corinthos let his business fray around him Jason stepped in to clean up the edges. He soon learned, to his irritation, that he was good at his new job. So good, in fact, that it quickly became impossible for the former 'Most Powerful Gangster' to reclaim his self-made business. Loyalties were irrevocably changed. Papers signed by a new hand, inking a new era for the decades-old corporation. Game plans and details were changed to the tastes of the younger, blue eyed boss, fortifying and securing the business under him into something like Fort Knox. He ran a tight ship, but he was well liked and his employees devoted themselves to him like dogs.

A perfectly executed mutiny, no matter how good Jason's intentions had initially been, that left Sonny stranded and alone. It was really no surprise when rumors of mental illness began to spread.

It started as a whisper: strange shifts in Sonny's personality, difficult to follow mood swings, erratic, non sequitur decisions. He seemed less grounded, searching desperately for something to cling to, for anything to fill the void of time and thought left behind without his organization. He doted on his children until they began to grow scared of him. He showered his attention on his girlfriend, Jason's sister Emily, until he effectively drove her away.

Alone, frightened and miserable, Sonny was teetering on dangerous.

Jason tried to keep a close eye on the man he considered his best friend. It was difficult, with all the responsibilities of running a ring as large as the one Sonny had developed, and sometimes the older man's movements slipped through the cracks, the abnormalities of his days going unnoticed by almost everyone. That was why Jason was unaware of Sonny's trip to Kelly's, and his conversation with Sam.

A dull car motor throbbed under the hum of the ship's engine. Jason lifted his head as a black car rolled to a stop near one of the farthest buildings, no head or tail lights betraying its position. The motor cut and two doors opened and, after a soundless moment, shut. Twenty silent, charged seconds passed before a man robed in a long, black trench coat approached Jason.

Jason knew his business partner's bodyguard was lurking somewhere nearby, gun drawn and ready.

"How is it moving?"

"Quickly," Jason answered, his voice gruff from the early hour and muggy air, "The shipment is almost entirely unloaded and stored."

"Good. I'll take it from here. It'll be out of your territory before the sun is up."

"It better be, Alcazar."

Lorenzo Alcazar was as shrewd a businessman as they come. Ruthlessly effective when he needed to be, he was the kind of rival that kept everyone on their toes. Dealing largely in arms movement, he had a low tolerance for sloppy work. Fast, shadowed and efficient, he used every minute to his advantage, his sharp mind devising succinct plans that nearly never failed. He wasn't hard to work with, polite and chivalrous. Jason knew him better than his reputation, and that awareness of his past kept both of the two men on edge. Neither trusted the other enough to turn their backs for even a moment.

This was not an arrangement either had entered willingly, forced into it out of necessity.

"Just get your people out of here and out dealings will be done. We can go back to hating each other soon enough," said Lorenzo, his tone suave, his arms folded over his chest. Jason looked at him keenly, blue eyes locked on blue eyes.

"We have one more meeting between us and you know it. Today at the Court… no, how about Kelly's? We'll settle the rest then." He motioned and his men began to clear away from the docks, his armed guards as still as statues, the ship's engine roaring to life as it churned slowly away from port. Lorenzo nodded slowly, watching with a slightly respectful smile as Jason commanded his men like a military unit.

"Fine. Make it one in the afternoon. I think we'll both need to sleep in, huh?" He grinned. Jason did not seem amused, eliciting a sigh from Lorenzo. They watched the last of Jason's men move out, leaving only the armed guards and two men with clip boards.

"Later," Jason said crisply as he walked away. It was on order, not a farewell. Lorenzo did not respond. During their short exchange a number of unmarked vans and cars of varying styles and colors had arrived. Lorenzo's men, ultimately indistinguishable from Jason's men by clothing and work ethic, rolled these vehicles up to the appropriate warehouse at Lorenzo's signal and got to work selecting the specific orders they needed for their deliveries. Some would be on the road for hours while others would not even leave the borders of the cities.

Jason left all that behind him as he turned the engine of his car and eased it purring onto the night painted road. His thoughts, as they always did when he wasn't forcing himself to focus on something, drifted to Sam. IT was an agonizing normality, the constant yearning for the warmth of her body.

A part of him wanted to drive to her apartment and steal her away from her own loneliness, at the same time ending his. It was his fault they were both hurting. While he didn't mind putting himself through it, feeling morally justified enough to cope, he damn near couldn't bear the thought of Sam being in the same sort of pain, without any hope of copping out to a blind cause like he could.

His face hardened as he scowled at himself in the rearview mirror.

"It has to be this way."

He didn't even sound like he believed it, but it was his mantra. The one sentence in all the ways he tried to explain himself and his actions that came the closest to making sense. He didn't have to believe it as long as he stayed true to it.

The parking garage was occupied only by cars. He was the only person arriving this late, the only tenant of the building that was still awake and working. He got out of his car and crossed the short distance to the elevator mindlessly, riding it up to his floor without registering the tuneless song that plucked away over the speakers. At the 'ding' he exited the sliding doors and moved down the hall.

At once all the fatigue of the past month hit him like a speeding truck. He wobbled, nearly floored, and, after floundering with his keys in an alcohol free state of drunkenness, dragged his despondent body into his pent house. He threw his blazer from his shoulders, loosened his shirt and belt, kicked off his shoes and crashed onto the sofa.

He hadn't been sleeping well. She was always in his dreams, smiling or crying, ecstatic or terrified. Brimming with joy or dying in his arms. Be it the former or the latter, every unconscious moment he spent looking at her was torture. Sleeping no longer held any restorative qualities, like a prescription too long abused. The more time that went by, however, the more he found himself hoping to see her in his mind's eye, perfect because she was ever the same.

He let himself slip into an uncomfortable haze of gray. He could feel his reality slipping away into a pleasant warmth, the promise of happier times ahead of him. He drew in a deep breath before letting himself go.

As he let it out, a long sigh, he imagined Sam in her bed at Kelly's, dreaming of him as he knew she would be. He thought of how he could only ever let her down, that the frown on her face was his responsibility. He couldn't, however, see the shadow in her window of feel the chill in the air.

She was beautiful when she slept.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

The phone was ringing.

Three in the morning was one of the few hours of the day that Sam strove to avoid. Generally it wasn't a difficult task: even if she only slept for two hours a night, pained by dreams and memories, one of those hours would begin at three. She actually couldn't remember the last time she saw the green display of her nightstand clock flashing a backwards three at her. Even during the day, when the number was acceptable, she was never around to see it. And never at this angle.

She was lying on her back, staring bitterly at the ceiling. She could not sleep too comfortably on her back and yet, some how, it was the only position in which she really felt comfortable. So she hoped to doze, for the constant sound reverberating from the phone right next to her. It not only sang into her head like a crow, but it rumbled the nightstand in its fervor.

And then it stopped.

Sighing, Sam settled deeper into her pillow, holding the blanket close to her chin as she closed her eyes and let the echo in her head dissipate. She felt herself getting lighter while at the same time her eyelids grew heavier. Nothing stood in her way this time. Sleep was coming easy, and she was thankful.

The phone began to ring.

"God DAMN it," Sam screamed at no one and everyone in the rooms around her. She felt they needed to know how angry she was about this rude wakeup call. Finding herself suddenly strangled by the sheets she took three full rings to disentangle herself. By the time she freed a hand with enough reach to touch the receiver it stopped shaking.

She said nothing. She just stared in disbelief. Rage bubbled silently in her chest. Silence and stillness followed. Three seconds passed, though it felt much longer to the woman stewing in an incomprehensible anger, before the phone had the audacity to ring again. This time she was prepared. Snapping at it like a mouse trap, she pulled the phone from the desk before the first ring was even complete, pressing it to her ear with idiotic, painful force.

"What is it?" She barked gruffly, not keeping her voice down.

"Can I talk to you tomorrow?" A familiar voice replied innocently. Sam leaned back against the head board of her bead, her upper back resting on the wall. She looked at the clock to remind herself that this was happening at entirely too early an hour before replying.

"It is tomorrow, isn't it?"

"Today, then."

"I already told you, Sonny: I'm not going to let you use me to get your business back."

"It's not about that," there was a sudden urgency in his tone that stopped the pulse in her heart. She ignored the impulse to interrupt him and instead listened intently, humming a prompt for him to continue, "You'll hate what I have to say, anyway, but I'm not asking you to get me my business back. Just… trust me. You'll want to hear what I have to tell you. It is about Jason, but not what you think. It'll change everything, I swear."

"Sonny… w-why can't you just tell me on the phone?" It alarmed her to find her lower lip quivering. She drew the blankets around her, knowing they would do nothing to ease this sudden shiver. She was wide awake now, even the thought of sleep a temptation too far gone to be captured.

"I just can't. Face to face. Please, Sam. You're the only person I can trust right now, the only one not working against me, and not shutting me out as some kind of loon."

"I'm your friend…" It was almost like recalling a memory, the words sliding heavily from her mouth. They weren't hard to say, but hearing them was a strange, out of body sort of experience. How long had it been since she and Sonny had been more than just friends? Even now they were more than that, the experiences they shared too binding to ever be shelved in memory. She really had no choice but to trust him, "Okay, I'll call you tomorrow when I'm off work… is that alright?"

"Fine. It's fine. Don't leave it too late. We might have a lot to discuss."

Unable to restrain herself, she jabbed fiercely, "How does 'early' sound to you, then? Say… three, four in the morning?"

Sonny chuckled with natural sincerity, his voice grinning in her ear, "I'm sorry. I just… I had to get in contact with you. It was keeping me awake, driving me crazy, so I just gave in and dialed."

"I'm not even going to ask how you got my number."

"I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Sonny hung up before she could utter a goodbye, leaving her, in a daze, listening to the tone of disconnection.

It officially wasn't a good day. A phone call at three was a bad start, and it continued down a slippery slope from there. Not only was it impossible for her to get to sleep after that, Mike asked her to work a day shift for him. The teenagers he usually relied on were all preoccupied with some drama of their own creation, and it was left to Sam to cover the diner. Mike had been nothing but nice to her from day one, so she couldn't refuse the request.

No matter how badly she wanted to.

Balancing an armful of plates while making her way slowly to the sinks in the back, a pocket full of tips paid in coins and a headache borne of insipid flirtation and rude demands, Sam was beginning to think Mike had tricked her. All that kindness to lead up to this: one day of inescapable misery serving people who hardly considered their waitress human, much less deserving of some respect. She wanted to imagine the diner owner sitting behind the counter, grinning at her as she toiled, but it was honestly too farfetched. Not even her bad mood could paint Mike in a bad light.

She would take it out on Sonny when they met after her shift. It was his fault, anyway, as far as she was concerned.

She let the plates clatter, the sound echoing with the reflection of her irritation. She sprayed them down with water and then abandoned them to let them soak, walking without purpose towards the counter. Leaning on it, staring vacantly over the three occupied tables of contentedly masticating customers, she decided it was time for a break.

Whatever comfort she hoped to get out of the downtime was lost before it could even begin as two very familiar men entered the diner. The first to enter was the epitome of 'tall, dark and handsome'. He was smiling vaguely, looking around with intelligent, curious blue eyes. He selected a table in a corner and led the way as his business associate followed stoically. While Lorenzo Alcazar piqued Sam's interest, Jason Morgan took her breath away.

Her body took over as her mind completely shut down. Two seconds of non-thought passed before she realized she was ducking under the counter, pressing her back against it as if she were hiding from something dangerous. Her heart was in her ears, making it impossible to eavesdrop on the duo. The fact that they were there together, clearly doing something less than legal, didn't matter. Lorenzo didn't matter when it came down to it. Jason was there. And 'there' meant in the same place as Sam.

She was excited, enraged and terrified all at once.

"Drop a penny?" Sam frowned. She looked up and saw Mike standing over her, his hands on his hips and a look of sheer amusement on his face. There was nothing she could do but hang her head and nod slowly into her chest. He understood that she was not telling him there was a penny, but that he had caught her red handed, "I think it's a good idea if I take that table, huh?"

"Probably," Sam stood, resolve in her eyes. Mike arched an eyebrow at her as she smiled and pulled her notebook from her back pocket, "but you know how badly me and good idea's mix."

"Oil and water."

"Exactly."

Mike sighed and motioned dismissively with his hand, shaking his head. She moved away from him and, drawing a deep breath, approached the table. She knew they weren't here for food, but this was an eatery, not a conference room, and she would do her job regardless.

They were sitting opposite each other, the world around them apparently inconsequential compared to the conversation they were having. There eyes were dangerous, their bodies poised to go for the closest weapon in a moments notice should that be necessary. Sam could feel the weight on their shoulders as she approached. For an instant, Jason's reason for shutting her out didn't seem so incomprehensible.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," she said, unable to keep her tone from turning coy, "ready to order?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

She worried that confronting this table head on would be awkward. An altogether utterly terrible decision. She thought it would tear her apart. She dreaded his reaction, each one that came into her head increasing exponentially in horror as the seconds stretched far beyond being uncomfortable. He stared at her. She stared at the notepad in her hand.

Lorenzo cleared his throat.

"Miss McCall. A pleasure. I didn't realize you worked here. Now this meeting makes complete sense," he kept his intense blue eyes on the man sitting across from him as he spoke, a smirk wrinkling the corner of his nose mockingly, "I'm fine, just coffee."

Sam nodded and jotted it down, taking extreme care with her handwriting. Proficiency wasn't her goal at this point: she wanted to write as slowly as possible in an effort to keep her attention away from the remaining customer at the table. It was a futile effort. Coffee was just not a long enough word to stave off the inevitable.

"And… and you?" Her voice lacked all confidence she tricked herself into thinking she had. She felt exposed and vulnerable, her shaking hands hidden by her firm grip on the notepad. Jason closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. She nodded and, thinking that was it, turned to get Lorenzo his coffee. A light touch, barely a graze, on her arm made her stop. Turning slowly, she found Jason leaning out across the table, half standing, his hand hanging in the air as his eyes met hers.

"Uh… thank you…" he said awkwardly. Bewildered, Sam nodded, then shook her head, then nodded again. She gave up on finding a response and, half bowing and half shirking, escaped to the safety of the kitchen.

She was used to doing stupid, crazy things. She knew what fear was, what pain and every other terrible feeling was. She also knew pure love and unhindered joy. She was familiar with the full spectrum of emotions. Yet the way her heart was pounding now, the rhythm of her pulse in her ears that drowned out the hum of the diner, the cold shiver that tingled with warmth as it ran through her body: all of this was completely new. Swallowing hard, she drew a deep breath to steady herself.

At the table, Lorenzo was giving Jason a comical grin. Jason eyed him, silently warning him not to say a word about what passed. Like most of the warnings he sent to the Alcazar organization, this one went unheeded.

"Looks like you have a few more things on your plate than our business arrangement. So why don't we make this quick?" He lowered his voice, but kept his demeanor calm and open. He might have been talking about less than savory behavior, but as long as he didn't look like he was no one around them would care. Jason echoed his calm body language, slacking in his seat, "Everything went flawlessly. As if it never occurred at all, in fact. The shipment is out of both of our territories now, which means it's no longer either of our concern. Our contract is dissolved."

Jason nodded. He had never been comfortable with how this all fell into place. Someone had effectively pulled their strings. While he couldn't speak for Lorenzo, he was beyond angry considering the way he had been manipulated into handling this shipment and passing it through his territory. Strategic holdings had been threatened, his business raided far more ruthlessly than any legitimate takeover could hope to accomplish, hostile or not. But with this movement came the promise of being left alone, like lifting a blockade.

As if no one had even been threatening him in the first place.

Jason couldn't accept it. He couldn't believe that someone would go through all the trouble of trapping his financial holdings so securely, only to let them go once one relatively small arms movement had been delivered. There had to be so much more here, and he was blind to it. Whoever had accomplished this little feat was showboating. It was a display of obvious power and business prowess, and it was to be taken as a warning. Jason's organization was not out of danger. In fact, he didn't doubt that he would be hearing from this mystery rival very soon.

He needed to figure out who he was dealing with, and how to shut him down before then.

Lorenzo raised his eyebrows as seconds moved into minutes and Jason did not reply. Sighing, he came to the conclusion that the cold former enforcer was not interested in discussing anything at all, and that being here was a complete waste of time. They were enemies again: there was no room for discussion. Carrying all the worries that plagued Jason into silence, Lorenzo stood and nodded his head at the kitchen, "Apologize to our lovely waitress for me. I think I've left enough of a tip to cover the wasted coffee."

He left before Jason could reply, though, there was no indication that he was going to do so.

Jason let his eyes refocus as he came out of his thoughts. There was a generous amount of money waiting where Lorenzo had been sitting, and the ringing echo of his mocking words lingered in the air. Shifting uncomfortably, Jason shook his head. It didn't sit well with him that Alcazar knew enough about him to tease him so casually. It was as if they were friends. Jason had many words to describe Lorenzo Alcazar, some of them even beginning with the same letter, but friend was certainly not on the list.

Though, at this point, with this unidentified, undeclared threat looming teaming up with the suave mobster might not be a bad idea. He was a keen mind, and more likely to come up with some answers than if Jason strove to do it on his own. Of course, Jason had already decided on the latter.

He stood and turned to leave, but his feet betrayed him. He moved away from the table, pushing the chair in politely, and took a few uncertain steps towards the counter. Mike was standing by the cash register, watching over the diner like a mother lion would her cubs. Not a man used to being intimidated, Jason felt out of his depth. Why should he be nervous of Mike? They had known each other for a while now, and there was no bad blood between them.

Mike looked at him with a severe air about him, nodding slowly. It was an enigmatically permissive motion, and Jason took it for what it was. He moved behind the counter, eyes on the ground, and made his way to the back of the kitchen. He saw Sam standing at the sink, the water running but her hands were hanging at her side. She didn't hear him approach.

"Sam…" he said softly, not wanting to scare her. She turned to face him fluidly, her body snapping around so quickly he was worried she might have pulled something. Stumbling against the sink, Sam let out a cry as water ricocheted off a plate as it slipped in the pile and drenched her back, from shoulders to tailbone. Jason moved and took her by one arm, pulling her away from the spray while he reached forward with his other hand to shut off the water.

Sam laughed, holding on to him. Jason, for what felt like the first time, laughed as well.

It all felt very familiar. Comfortable. Perfect. For both of them. Sam looked at him, shaking her head in embarrassment, and he touched her face tenderly. For a moment she was stunned, her eyes searching his, but his eyes were a mystery. They always had been, and she felt at home being lost in them. They kissed, slowly and with the timid restraint of young school kids on a first date.

He pulled away, taking a full step backwards.

"I'm sorry, this… that wasn't what I came back here… for."

Sam couldn't hide the disappointment on her face, "Oh, ah… I'm sorry. Wh-what… did you come back here for?"

"I just wanted to see if you were okay," Jason felt like he was trapped in a room that kept getting smaller. As the walls closed in he found himself beginning to panic. "…are you?"

"As fine as I'm gonna be, I guess," she crossed her arms over her chest, staring at the floor. She didn't know what to do or think at this point. She knew what had just happened had been a natural reaction for the two of them, because they had spent so long together they had experienced many moments like it, but that didn't change the fact that they weren't in a relationship at the moment. It meant everything to her, but at the same time it didn't mean anything at all. It couldn't change anything.

"Okay, good. I'm… I'm glad you're doing okay. I guess I should go," Jason said, his face expressionless once more. She sighed at him. She couldn't find the words to get him to stay. It was almost as if they didn't exist. She just knew she would find them later that night, when she was trying to get to sleep.

Jason waved and backed out, turning just in time to navigate around a stove. Sam watched him go, stared at the space he left behind for a long while, then looked at her watch. She had to meet with Sonny before the day got too late. She couldn't imagine him having much to do with his time, so he was probably already waiting for her.

"Hey Mike?" She called, her voice strained, "I'm going to head out for a bit, okay?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

The sun was high by the time Sam reached Sonny's mansion, glinting off the windows and spires. The sky was cloudless and bright, the most perfect shade of blue she had ever seen. A soft wind that carried nothing but a sweet scent of day old rain whistled through the finely kept garden as she crossed the walk to the front door. Everything was perfectly charming, leaving Sam to wonder why her stomach was doing flips and her throat refused to open.

She shuddered, her tight fist stopping short of the door. If she turned around now, throwing her cell phone in the closest trash can she could find, she could pretend her life was normal. That this anxiety, the stab of fear that shook her slight frame and squeezed her heart did not have reason to exist. Drawing a breath, she rapped her knuckles on the door three times. It opened quickly, a familiar man dressed in a black business suit greeting her with a friendly smile.

Max tilted his head and arched an eyebrow at her goofy expression. He caught her in the transition of looking uncertain to feigning warmth, leaving her looking guilty of some private misdeed. She shook her head, letting her face relax, and then smiled at him sincerely. With a laugh he held the door open for her, stepping back with a grand gesture. Sam entered, chuckling at her embarrassment, and turned to face him once the door was closed.

"How is Sonny today?" She asked, handing him her coat when he silently offered to take it with outstretched arms.

Max looked thoughtful for a moment, picking his words carefully, "Better than he has been, I think. He's paranoid, but that's been constant this week. I don't know what he's expecting to happen, but it can't be good. He's waiting for you, has been all morning, so I don't think I have to announce you. Do you know why he asked you over here?"

"That was actually my next question," she shook her head slowly as the broad shoulder man crossed the room and stopped in front of the inner set of doors. Beyond them his boss was waiting with intense patience for the woman standing behind him. He stood there, directly centered in the doorway, and turned to face Sam as she spoke, "he just called me early this morning, told me to meet him today. I would have been here sooner, but… well… other things… came up."

"It's okay, Miss McCall, you don't have to apologize to me. If I were in your position…"

She noticed the sadness creeping into the bodyguard's eyes and felt her heart growing heavy with care. He was as loyal as they came, devoted to keeping his boss as safe as possible. His job normally called for violence and protecting Sonny from bullets, not protecting Sonny from himself. Sam could see how tired Max was, his body language and the way he wore his suit slightly rumpled reminding her of an old, worn in pair of shoes: reliable and durable, but beginning to show how frayed and tired they were. Keeping Sonny from getting into trouble during this time of mental instability was taxing for Max, to say the least, but he would never think about abandoning his job. She respected him for that.

"I'm not in a position, other than coming here out of friendship. I know he's having a rough time getting over the lose of his business… and being alone. I want to help him, Max, I really do, but if he asks me to betray Jason… I'm not sure I can."

"I know that, Miss McCall. Just… when you go in there? Try not to upset him. He's been really edgy all day, and won't even talk to me. Though, he did throw a bottle at me when I tried to get him to tell me what he was worried about. If he trusts you with whatever it is I'm not going to make you tell me about it. I just… if he's in trouble again, from Jason or from something else… will you at least help me do my job?"

Sam smiled. The way Max was standing, his arms behind his back, his head slightly lowered and his eyes on the floor out of some small sense of shame, reminded her of a young schoolboy asking the teacher for permission to go to the restroom. She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck.

"I'll do what I can."

"That's all I ask. I know you care about him, and you're not oblivious to what he's going through. If Mrs. C isn't going to help him, then my second choice would be you. I mean… ah… you better go in," he opened the doors slowly, his back to Sam. It was good, because the look of distress on her face after she realized just how much Sonny might need to lean on her would have broken his heart. It was gone by the time he turned around to motion her in. With a nod and, as she passed, a light pat on his arm, Sam entered the room to see Sonny sitting, with a drink in his hand, on the sofa. Max closed the doors politely, leaving the two abruptly alone.

"Sorry I took so long getting over here. I probably should have called-"

Sonny looked up and stood, as if noticing her for the first time, smiling and spreading his arms wide in welcome, "Don't worry about it. Come in, sit down. Drink?" He moved away from the sofa to refill is own glass at the mini-bar. Sam declined with a wave of her hand, sitting in an arm chair opposite to the sofa. Sonny returned to his seat, sipping at a new glass of scotch.

"So… ah…" Sam prompted, looking around the room. The windows were shut, the shutters drawn. Across the room was a set of double glass doors leading into the garden. They were closed with curtains pulled over them. Sam thought she could make out bars on the windows. The lights were dim, the room cold. It was like night had come early for Sonny, "what's up?"

"Nothing, nothing. I'm glad you could visit me. I really am sorry I called you so early this morning. Honestly, I shouldn't have. I didn't mean to wake you up."

"Don't worry about it… I was… I was awake anyway," she lied, smiling like she meant it, "Why is it so dark in here, Sonny?"

There was something to be said for being straight forward. She let her features drop into a casual concern, her eyes clear and confident, her body language friendly, but worried. She leaned forward in the seat, towards Sonny, tilting her head at him as she spoke. He arched an eyebrow at her, shaking his head almost as if he didn't know what she was talking about.

"I can't have people peeking in here when I'm talking to you," he said, matter-of-factly. Sam collapsed back into the seat as if an invisible force had just slammed into her. Sighing, she waved her hand for him to continue, feeling that this was going to be a long visit and that she wasn't fully prepared for it. Sonny ran a hand through his black hair, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before explaining himself, "I think we're all in very serious danger. Especially Jason. By taking my business from me he's made more enemies than I think he knows how to deal with. He was playing nice with Alcazar the other night."

"I saw them at Kelly's earlier. Before… coming here. They didn't look like they were getting along."

"Alcazar and Jason had to move some… well, cargo through their territories. They were effectively forced to work together, and if I'm not missing my guess, which I don't think I am, I think they are both being set up."

Sam sat silently for a moment, mulling this over. If there was one man she knew could handle anything the criminal world threw at him it was Jason. As much as it pained her to admit it, he was good at this job. Maybe even better than Sonny was. She was having trouble believing he was in any danger at all, considering the organization had never been as strong as it was now that Jason has taken it over. Plus, with Lorenzo, the second strongest mobster in the area, participating in a sort of truce with him, how could anyone try anything against Jason now? Sighing, she realized Sonny was working an angle he thought he could use to win her to his side, to use her to protect Jason from whatever this invisible threat might be and help him get back what he firmly believed was rightfully his.

"Sonny…" she said, the warning in her tone clear. He raised a hand to silence her, pressing on before she could speak another word.

"I'm not lying to you, Sam. I would never try to trick you, or get you involved in this business. But I don't have a choice right now. You know how dangerous the world Jason and I choose to live in is. I really think he's stepping into something that he can't possibly handle. He doesn't have the information, or the access to it that I do. Sam, I do. I just need… I need more leverage here. Jason thinks I'm cracking up. He won't listen to me."

While he was speaking he crossed the room to her, putting a piece of paper into her palm without explaining it. Sam, folding her hand around the note with her eyes closed, listened to most of this speech without reacting. As more words continued to escape his lips, however, her anger rose. She stood abruptly, fixing Sonny with a glare that stopped him mid-thought.

"I told you, Sonny: I'm not going to betray Jason. You need to stop pushing me, and you have to stop fighting Jason. He's not going to take you moving against him lying down," the door opened behind her, but she didn't notice, "He's going to kill you if he finds out about this."

"Damn right he is."

Sam turned around sharply, making herself dizzy. A strikingly familiar blur was standing in the doorway, leaning against the door to keep Max from coming in. When her eyes refocused she was not surprised to see Jason clearly, a gun in his hand, his eyes shifting from Sonny to Sam as if he didn't know which one to shoot first.

"What the hell are you doing here, Jason? Did you follow her?" Sonny moved to face his new foe, dropping the glass and reaching for the gun under his jacket. Jason raised his weapon first, his intense blue eyes warning Sonny not to move his hand another inch, or he would lose it. Sam stood stiffly, a sinking feeling telling her she was trapped between the veritable rock and a hard place.

"Jason, put the gun away! Sonny, sit down! Come on, guys, you can't act like all those years of friendship don't mean anything any more," she tried, taking a step towards Jason.

She stopped, her entire world completely shutting down in one swift moment, as Jason turned the gun on her. His eyes flashed, regret and pain, but he held his aim tightly. Sonny took the moment to withdraw his own gun, aiming it at Jason. Sam felt like the odd person out, lacking any sort of weapon to complete the triangle.

"Get out of here, Jason," Sonny said.

"Are you working for him, Sam? Is that what this is?" Jason asked, lowering his gun to look at her plainly. She felt anger bubbling in her chest. She knew he would never fire at her, and even just aiming at her had been a instinct rather than a direct threat against her. She was ready to forgive him, understanding that violence was inescapable in his line of work, and he was always on guard. What really made her angry, what made her suddenly wish she had never even gotten out of bed that morning, was how easy it was for him to assume the worst of her.

"Do you think I am?" She challenged. It was the last defense she had.

Jason's silent spoke volumes for his faith in her. He shifted his gaze to Sonny, who had not yet lowered his gun. Sam felt a red fire spreading over the bridge of her nose and through her cheeks. Her eyes began to sting, a lump the size of a golf ball making breathing difficult and swallowing a nightmare.

Everything was moving too fast for rational thought to keep up.

"So you followed me from the diner because you thought I was up to no good? That kiss, what the hell was that, then? No, Jason, I'm not selling you out to Sonny. I'm not going to use my wiles against you and win you back so he can get the business back while you're distracted by being in love, like you so easily did to him. Okay? In fact, I'm not going to play this game at all any more. If you and Sonny want to blow each other away that's fine with me."

She stormed to the door without being consciously aware of the action. Her brain had nothing to do with it, as if a flight instinct had been initiated and her body had no choice but to comply. Jason, bewildered and still cringing from her words, took a step back. Max came crashing through the door but Sam didn't slow down, stepping over him as she grabbed her coat from the rack and flew out the front door, letting it slam behind her.

Max, sputtering from the exertion and surprise, got to his feet, hand in his coat pocket, "Is everything okay in here, boss?" He asked, looking at Jason miserably. There was no way he would be able to take Jason Morgan down, even if he wanted to. He couldn't bring himself to shoot, unless Sonny said it was absolutely necessary, and even then he would probably be killed by the greatly better trained and experienced former Enforcer/new mob boss.

Luckily, Sonny simply shook his head and indicated for Max to leave. He complied with a nod, backing out and closing the door as he went, his eyes never leaving Jason. He had a feeling he was going to be needed again. For the time being he contented himself by going to the front door and peering out, to see how far Sam had gone. He never liked it when friends of Sonny left in anger, particularly these days. He needed all the help he could get. Even from the end of the yard he couldn't see her.

As enraged as she was she could quite probably put a ring about the earth in forty minutes, her stride matching the rapid pace of her heart. Instead she made her way to the docks. It was her thinking spot. The lapping of the water against the old wooden dock was soothing, in a strange way. The beautiful day she had left upon entering Sonny's home was gone now, thick dark clouds rolling threatening across the sun. It was probably going to rain by nightfall. The good idea would have been to head home as quickly as possible, to beat the down pour, but Sam never found herself choosing the good ideas. Especially when she was angry.

She stood with her arms folded over her chest, breathing the pungent air in deeply to steady her pulse. Her eyelids felt heavy as she let them close over her stinging eyes, and for a moment she thought she was going to fall asleep standing up. It would have explained the nightmare she found herself in.

No matter how she tried, she could not forgive Jason for so easily dismissing her loyalty. Did he really believe she could let him go this quickly, that she was so vindictive she would turn to revenge? It was an unfair question, considering some of her past actions, but this was as painful as a slap in the face. She wasn't ready to come to terms with the fact that she was not the nicest person in the world, that she did have a wicked side and that she did, in fact, play for vengeance when wronged. She didn't want to admit what Jason had already considered: that she would betray him.

But she did.

Something stirred behind her, drawing her attention back to the docks. It had begun to rain, a very light mist, and a fog was rolling over the water before her. She shivered unnaturally, turning around with her heart beating in her temples. Fear gripped her so tightly she couldn't manage a breath, her eyes desperately searching for whatever it was that was making her feel so insecure. A voice, carried by the fog, called to her softly.

"The big boys not playing nice with you, little girl?" It cooed, a laugh in each syllable as she craned her neck around to try and pinpoint the source, "How long has it been, Sweetness?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

For a long time Sam couldn't place the voice that addressed her. It wasn't because she didn't recognize the cruel purr, the echo of it invading her nightmares almost as frequently as she dreamed of Jason, but that it didn't make sense to hear it in the waking world. As terrifying as it was, she was almost used to the voice belonging no where but in her mind. It haunted her, but no longer tormented her. It was nothing more than a bad memory, disembodied and harmless. It did not belong out on the docks as she walked them in consciousness.

"You just going to ignore me?" It, he, said again. The voice was not ethereal but strong and focused. Real. She felt the weight of a hand on her shoulder and knew in one torturous moment that she was with him. He was with her. There was no pretending, no swearing to imagination, no shutting her eyes and having it all go away. He turned her with his firm grip and forced her to come face to face with him. He was grinning, devilish and mocking, his soulless eyes traveling down her body as if he could see through her clothing, "that hurts my feelings."

"M-Manny… you're… you're supposed to be dead…" Sam stammered. She felt as if she had been terribly injured but was in too much shock to know exactly how or where. She was dying, slowly, her mind shutting down and degenerating into a fear she had tried to conquer some months ago. Her heart began to race, thundering in her ears, almost blocking out his reply.

"You should know I don't do what I'm supposed to, huh? So, how have you been since your boyfriend left me for dead?" He had her by the arms now, holding her in front of him steadfast. She couldn't get her body to fight against him anyway, her brain not on speaking terms with her nervous system at the moment. Her glance fell from his fathomless eyes to the hands that gripped her. The tattoos struck a cord in her mind and suddenly all she wanted to do was run.

With a strength that surprised her casual assailant Sam jerked back. She brought her foot up, aiming for his groin, and brought it down in an awkward kick-stomp on his knee. There was no time to contemplate the inaccuracy of her attack, her flight instinct sending her fleeing across the dock towards a dark building, screaming for help. Manny was on top of her like a lion on a zebra, his strong hand over her mouth. He wrapped one leg around the front of her ankle and pulled it back, sweeping her balance from her. She crashed with a heavy thud on the cold wooden dock, his weight crushing the air from her lungs as he landed on top of her.

It didn't take him long to wrestle both her arms behind her, shifting back to settle his weight on her legs. She heard the click of handcuffs, felt the sting as they pinched her wrists too tightly, but was helpless to stop him. That done, Manny got off her and hoisted her effortlessly to her feet, spinning her around and pulling her close. Whimpering, she turned her face away. He shook her and laughed into her face, releasing her as he shoved her backwards. She landed heavily, pain shooting through her tail bone and up her spine. Manny straddled her legs, stooping over he menacingly, keeping himself balanced and her sitting up by putting a hand on her shoulder.

"What are you going to do?" Sam asked as the flight impulse, now that she was utterly trapped, gave way to fight. She scowled at him, a fiery hate burning in her chest. He leaned forward until his nose was touching hers.

"What do you think?" He whispered, his lips brushing hers. Bile rushed into her throat, disgust stinging her eyes to tears and causing her to shudder. She snarled at him, pulling her face back as far as she could. Her back ached, her breath came in short gasps as she struggled to refill her lungs, but she maintained an expression of strong defiance.

"You can't use me against Jason anymore. We broke up. A month ago."

Sam suddenly realized her thoughts had not turned to Jason once since the encounter had begun. She hadn't silently begged for him to come to her rescue, or imagined him bursting onto the scene with his gun blazing. He did not rescue her in her mind, much like how he would not come to rescue her now. She couldn't decide if she was subconsciously protecting him or if she had suddenly accepted that she did not have him, nor need him, in her life anymore. Either way, this independence gave her a jolt of confidence against Manny. He grinned at her and her feeling of power waned.

"Oh, I know," He stood, looking down at her, "You were inconsolable the week following the break up. Remember? It was so hard to just watch you sitting alone in your room at Kelly's, crying every time you looked at that stupid picture on the nightstand. I was proud of you when you put that thing in a drawer. You moved on, huh? Last night you slept beautifully, in every sense of the word. Looks like you don't really need that muscle-head in your bed to be Sam. I mean, look at you now! Just as tough as I remember, and no big Enforcer to keep you safe."

Sam tuned out most of his little speech, watching his face rather than absorbing his words. Her mind shut off after he recounted her struggle after the breakup, "You've been… talking me?"

Manny grinned, "Now that's an ugly word for it."

Sam found herself at a loss for words. She stopped struggling to find a weakness in the handcuffs. She stopped wiggling inexorably away from the bald, tattooed demon hovering before her. All she could do was stare at him, her mouth slightly open in shock, her mind racing back to all the moments when she had found herself inexplicably uncomfortable. Each small instance of the hair on the back of her neck standing up without reason, or a shudder crawling through her muscles despite the weather being nice suddenly made sense. She had been feeling him, his eyes, for a long time now.

Her stomach contorted into a painful spasm, her throat locking up so tightly that the vomit she felt lurching forward had no escape path. She was flat on her back before she knew what happened, Manny sitting on her hips, his knees on the pavement on either side of her. He had shoved her back when he had seen just what kind of reaction she was having to his news, laughing all the while. He had seen her getting dressed in the morning, had seen her getting ready for bed at night, seen her showering. Those lonely nights, each time she had thought she was alone and everything she had done in that serene, miserable privacy, he had been watching.

An innumerable string of curses and insults flew through her head, but none of them found their way to her tongue. She gaped at him and her grabbed her shirt, pulling her into a sitting position once more. She spat into his face and he stood up, yanking her up with him with such force it left her slightly stunned. Regaining her sense, she stared at him with defiance on her face and in her body language, despite that he held her above the ground, her toes just touching the floor. Determined not to show how shaken she was she glowered at him, her frown so deep it was almost a snarl.

"You sick freak. You don't have any power any more. Not in Port Charles and not over Jason or me. You're nothing."

'Then I guess I'm just going to have to start from scratch, huh? What do you think? The cold-blooded murder of the DA's daughter might be enough to get me back in papers. It'll be just like old times for you and me, you know? I could have you, and leave my mark on you, then deliver your lifeless body to the precinct. Doesn't that sound like fun to you?"

"Not really, no."

"Then how about this?" He lowered her to the floor, stepping towards her as she instinctively pulled back. He back her into the wall of a nearby building, wrapping his ink-painted arms around her subtle waist tightly and grinding his hips against hers in an aggressively sexual move. She shut her eyes tightly, but nothing could keep his voice from violating her ears. He had her trapped against the wall, his body pinning her, his lips playing with her neck as he spoke, tasting her with pseudo-vampiric eroticism, "how about you forget Morgan and Corinthos and Alcazar and join the man who will soon own this town?"

Sam could not process what she was hearing. If he was playing with her she could not see his goal. Feeling like she was testing a puddle with both feet, she struggled to form a question.

"I'm not… what do you mean?"

He stepped back from her, a look that both scared and excited her in his eyes. The handcuffs clattered to the floor behind her. She slumped against the wall, rubbing one wrist with the other hand, as he leaned over her, his palms flat against the wall on either side of her head. His breath was hot on her face, his eyes boring into hers with an intensity Sam found herself believing was sincere. She stared back at him, unwilling to blink, barely breathing, enraptured and awestruck.

"I think you know more than you're letting on. Jason and Alcazar think they're dealing with Sonny, right? Business troubles? They're not, Sweetness, they're not. I've got them by the short and curlies, and Corinthos too. None of them are playing nice with you, and I could use more help. You: you're not playing on any team, anyway. Jason betrayed you, didn't he? He has no faith in you. Join my team, Sam, and show him what happens when he's right."

Sam squinted at him, a thin smile creeping across her beautiful features. Jason had no faith in her, that much was true. Manny must have witnessed the scene at Sonny's. Jason believed she had no loyalty to him now that their relationship was over, as if he thought he meant nothing to her. That she meant nothing to him. This was her chance, her crossroad: she could prove him right or prove him wrong. The former would be for herself, while the latter would be an effort entirely for him. Something in the air, or the present company, made her feel selfish.

"Tell me you need me, and I might consider it," she said coyly, pressing her newly freed hands against his chest. Even in the dim light she could see the bruises forming where the cuffs had bitten too tightly. Her eyes lingered on the purple bracelets, the thought that this would be a common sight, the dull ache would be a familiar feeling, resting heavily on her shoulders.

She shrugged.

"I need you, Sweetness," he growled, pushing against her to pin her territorially under him. His lips were at her ear, the purr of his voice throbbing sensually. She shivered, balling her hands into fists, wrinkling and pulling his shirt as her nails dug into his skin. She could feel him against her, hard and desperate, his heavy body pulsing against her lithe frame, "I need you so bad."

Without further warning Manny grabbed her roughly by the chin, his other hand gripping her waist, and kissed her with a violent passion. She let him, submissively going limp against the wall. He pulled away at the sound of footsteps approaching, vanishing with a slew of curses into an alley before Sam had any time to collect herself. Dazed, she remained where he left her.

"Sam? Honey, are you out here?" Mike's familiar voice called from a flight of stairs above the docks. Sam snapped out of her trance and managed to strangle out a call in response. She left the handcuffs where they had fallen, dusting herself off as she hurried to meet him.

"Sorry! I'm here."

"I thought you might be. Are you okay?" The older man smiled at her with tender paternal concern. She tried her best to appear completely normal, despite the terrible pain in her wrists, her back and her chest. She didn't doubt that Mike could see right through her, "I know you like to come out here to think, but it's dangerous. Especially after dark. Come on back to the diner, I've got coffee and pie waiting for you."

"Thank you, Mike," she hugged him tightly for a lengthy moment, as if he had just saved her life, "you're too good to me."

"That's not possible."

She smiled at him with glistening eyes, "go ahead, I'll be right behind you."

"You sure?" She nodded and he sighed, walking off. He continued to cast glances back at her, but she was lost to him as he turned a corner.

Sam drew a deep breath and plunged her hands into the pockets of her pants. She found a crumpled piece of paper shoved at the bottom of one and pulled it out, smoothing it mindlessly as she tried to remember where it had come from. Sonny's handwriting covered the paper, urgent and sloppy, reminding Sam of their interrupted meeting earlier in the day. She couldn't fathom how long ago that had been now, feeling that she was an eternity and a thousand miles from that place now.

She read it as she made her way towards Kelly's, her feet guiding her instinctively as her mind wandered. Before she had been uncertain, terrified and lost. Now she knew exactly what she was doing. With a confident not to her own genius, she folded the paper and returned it to her pocket. Kelly's appeared before her and she entered with a smile on her face and a spring in her step. Mike, at the counter looked at her in surprise.

"I take it things are better with Jason?" he asked, pushing a plate with a big piece of pie on it towards her as she came to sit on a stool at the counter.

"You could say that," she said with a mischievous smirk, "though, they might be getting worse for him real soon."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

The standoff did not escalate after Sam left, as Max feared it might. The faithful bodyguard stood in the doorway, his gun drawn, his attention split between his boss and his former associate. If it came to it, Max would shoot Jason, but he prayed with every ounce of his faith that it would not. He did not want to have to hurt or kill Jason, still believing that the enforcer was now and always would be Sonny's closest friend. There was also the very real possibility of Jason, whose reputation was near immaculate and his inability to die in a gun fight legendary, killing Max without breaking a sweat.

The blonde, blue eyed mobster instead holstered his gun, sighing and waving to Max with an easy dismissal. Max looked at Sonny, who still held his gun firmly, but had it aimed at the floor.

"Go on, Max. Everything is fine in here," Sonny said with a sigh. He sounded like a child expecting his parents to yell at him. Glancing between the two men one last time, Max nodded and reached for the doorknob, keeping his gun up and in Jason's general direction.

"Alright, Boss. I'll be just out here if you need me." He left the room, closing the door behind him with a firm, almost threatening thud. It was silent for a long moment as Sonny moved to his sofa and Jason shifted uncomfortably, searching for a way to pursue this conversation without creating another battle.

"You're working with Sam?" His voice was edged with venom, his ability to control himself weakening as images of the woman he loved and the man he once considered his best friend betraying him flashed into his mind. Sam had just left, but he still felt her in the air. His mind tried to rationalize the feeling as a projection of his longing for her, but his jealousy convinced him it was because she was so often in this room that her essence lingered, like perfume in the air. Rage burned in his chest, a cold fire, and the only way he could keep from drawing his gun once more was by keeping his arms folded tightly over his chest.

"I don't really think what I do is any of your business any more. Or what Sam does, for that matter." Sonny relaxed in the thick cushions of the expensive sofa, looking at Jason with a tight smirk. He knew he had to keep his former Enforcer at bay, but couldn't resist the opportunity to jab at what Jason found most painful. It was a small act of revenge, one that would not carry any lasting malice, "Is that why you invited yourself in?"

Jason scowled, but said nothing.

"I think you should leave," Sonny said, looking bored. Jason stiffened, his eyes darkening and his hand clenching over the shadow of his gun. He did not move to draw, but Sonny did not give him the benefit of the doubt. He was ready to defend himself, just in case. After a tense moment, Jason fixed his eyes on his former boss and spoke in a low, dangerous voice.

"Not until you tell me what you're doing with Sam."

"Or do you mean, what Sam is doing with me?" Sonny let the implication behind his words sink in, Jason's ice blue eyes flashing as he considered, begrudgingly, how much weight the idea carried. Feeling he was hitting his stride, Sonny continued, "Face it, Jason, you know Sam better than any one in this world, right? And she's the same about you. So how do you think she would react if you cut her off with only the bare minimum of an explanation? What do you think, Jason, she would do?"

Once again, Jason was silent, but it was not because he was trying to keep his anger in check, as before. This time he was struggling to find an argument, something he could almost believe, to destroy the doubt that was creeping through his mind. The idea that she had gone to Sonny, out of revenge and spite, was revolting and enraging to Jason, who loved and trusted her with all his being. But Sonny, while clearly playing some sort of game, was right. Jason did know Sam. She was strong and bull-headed. Crafty and tough as nails. As much as he had always hated to admit it, the mob life suited her. Or at least, it had never been enough to topple her spirit. She was capable of taking care of herself. Betraying him to Sonny, taking from him the one thing that had split them up, might be her answer to their break up.

Jason felt it all falling into place, but without any sort of evidence he persevered to maintain his denial. Until Sam let him know her plan he wasn't going to believe it was happening. He'd be careful, of course, but giving Sonny the upper hand by being distracted by Sam and a fictitious betrayal was almost as dangerous as any real one.

"You know I'll figure this out, whatever you're trying to do here. You're sick, Sonny, and there's no way I'm going to let you hurt yourself, or anyone else. Do you understand that?"

Sonny stood, his handsome face drawn in an expression of intense, disturbed anger. Condescension was intolerable. Jason's anarchist rebellion had crossed the line, far surpassing the length Sonny was willing to stretch his patience. Being talked down to, now that he was powerless and fighting for a hold on an organization that was rightfully his, was like kicking him directly in his pride. Jason stood his ground, towering strong and defiant. Sonny stalked up to him their eyes meeting and the air between them exploding with tension and pent up anger.

"Get out of my house, Jason. The next time I see you around here you'll be taken down," he paused, for effect and because his throat was so tight he couldn't speak for long stretches without running the risk of screaming, "Do you understand that?"

He held the small cup gingerly, looking at his wife in dismay, feeling as though every one he had ever worked with, ever hoped to impress or receive respect from were hiding in various places around the room. The furniture was silently mocking him. Of the three pairs of eyes he could see, two look hopeful and one looked teasingly amused. He sighed, giving up, and took a sip at the invisible liquid.

There was a long, expectant pause.

"It's good, honey."

Seeing the look of disappointment spreading on his step-daughter's face, he quickly searched his vocabulary for a word more pleasing to a young girl's ears.

"What Daddy Ric means to say is that the tea is delicious and you're an excellent hostess," Alexis cut in, saving him from the agony of the cold shoulder routine. He found it funny that Kristina was exactly like her mother, down to the intelligence and the ability to feign indignance over the most trivial of matters. She was a sharp shooter, and surprisingly quick for one so young. In fact, Ric was positive she knew her mother was simply placating her, but the effort was noted and appreciated none-the-less.

"Thank you, Mommy," Kristina replied with the biggest of grins and a light giggle. Ric and Alexis exchanged a look, both smiling fondly and relishing the childish happiness of the moment. Alexis sipped at her invisible tea, then looked at her watch. As if anticipating this, Kristina fixed her mother a hard look with her large, bright doe brown eyes, "When is Sam coming, Mommy?"

"Soon, I think," she looked at Ric, indicating silently that she did not, in fact, think that, but was not in the mood to crush Kristina's giddy attitude at the moment. Kristina loved Sam more than, Alexis some times believed, her parents. It was cute, but on days like this, when Sam failed to make a play date, it upset her deeply. Feeling that if she had raised Sam, as she was raising Kristina and her other daughter Molly, her ability to get to appointments on time would be sharply better, she grinned and concluded, "she wouldn't miss another tea party. I'll just go call her and see what's keeping her, okay? Here, make sure Ric gets enough cookies."

Alexis Davis excused herself from the dining room table, leaving her husband and daughters to continue their play tea time. Ric Lansing eyed her with a slightly desperate look, his inability to use his imagination as the little girls required a very real concern, with Kristina in a mood about Sam not turning up. Alexis flashed him a reassuring, slightly teasing smile and moved out of the room. The smile faded when she was a safe distance from the trio, reaching into her pocket and producing her cell phone. She hit the speed dial, an action that was almost a reaction. It seemed every time she was taking out her cell phone with anger in her movements it was to call her eldest daughter.

The phone rang uselessly for a long while before being sent to Sam's voice box. Not content in leaving yet another scolding message that would go unanswered, Alexis hung up and then redialed. She would continue this tactic until Sam picked up. Three redials later, she got a voice on the other end.

"Alexis?"

"Do you know what time it is, Sam? Or, how about I get a little more general than that, because I'm sure you know what time it is. How about the -day-?"

"Okay, Alexis, I've had a really bad day, and I really don't feel like getting lectured right now. So why don't you just tell me what you want, and then let me get back to work?" Alexis was aware of the strain in Sam's voice. It clashed with a strange tremble of excitement, creating a sort of dangerous note that made her maternal instincts buzz to life. She knew she had to be concerned about something, despite having no indication as to what.

"You're supposed to be here for Kristina's tea party, remember? She keeps rescheduling them for you. You've missed four, Sam, and Ric and I are getting pretty tired of the taste of imaginary tea. Even Molly is beginning to get tired."

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Alexis knew Sam was running through a long list of curses. As the silence grew Alexis wandered back to the table, looking at Kristina and indicating to the phone.

"Just tell her I'll be a little late, okay? I have some important errands to run and-"

"You can tell her. Here she is." Alexis quipped, taking the phone from her ear before Sam could protest and handing it to the young girl. Kristina took the phone in both hands, as carefully as her age could permit, and put it to her ear.

"Sam?"

"Hey… Kristina," Sam sighed, mentally noting that she now needed to get back at Alexis in some small, annoying way, "Listen, honey, I'm sorry, but I'm going to be late for the tea party today."

"You're already late," Kristina pointed out innocently.

Sam had learned a long time ago that speaking to children was the fastest way to shattering your moral composure and making yourself feel like a terrible human being. They saw things in a simple, honest way that most adults could not manage, most too busy throwing in their own bias and bitterness to their perception to see things as they are ultimately intended. Sam knew she didn't have to pick her words carefully for Kristina's sake, as the young girl would believe almost anything her older sister told her, but for her own. Kristina, in particular, had a habit for saying sweet, endearing things that consistently reminded Sam she was horrible for even considering a lie.

"I know, and I'm sorry. I got tied up at work. Can you forgive me?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Okay, I'll just be a little longer, okay? I promise, I'll be there as soon as I can, and you can serve me the cold tea. It's okay, I deserve it."

Kristina smiled into the phone at Sam's silliness. Of course the tea was cold, it was fake! She nodded, then added softly, "You promise?"

Sam's pause was just slightly too long. Kristina did not catch it, but Alexis and Ric, as they looked on, did. They exchanged a knowing glance, frowning.

"I promise."


End file.
